


Good Morning World

by Hapkido9061



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, EXO - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentioned Byun Baekhyun, Mentioned Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao, Mentioned Lu Han, Mentioned Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Oneshot, Texting, Underage Drinking, lapslock, other exo members mentioned - Freeform, sehun is jongdae's little brother, the relationships are minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:35:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hapkido9061/pseuds/Hapkido9061
Summary: Jongdae had the stereotypical life every person dreams of. Good friends, decent grades, and a little brother that wasn't horrible to be around. That's what he told them and that's what they believed. Mostly because that's what he wanted to have, too.





	Good Morning World

**Author's Note:**

> So this one's pretty heavy I think? Please check the tags for trigger warnings. Thank you for reading :)

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 7 -9:47 AM_  
>  _morning! good luck on the test today, you said it was the first big calc one, right? ugh just wait until college. then youll know true pain haha_
> 
> _read > september 7 -11:12 AM_

 

           jongdae stares down at the exam on the desk. his sharpened number two pencil sits to his right and a worn down pink eraser to the left. mr. choi, a bearded man with a potbelly, gave pity on him this morning, said he didn’t have to take it, but here he is. it has been a week since jongdae sat in his uncomfortable desk in ap calculus next to junmyeon and yixing. the report in the office only stated ‘family problems’ in shaky handwriting. the blue ink was smudged near the official signature. forged, obviously.

           jongdae’s knee knocks the top of his desk not made for anyone over five foot ten. the sharpened number two pencil falls to the ground. jongdae stares at it.

           the bell ends the test. students around jongdae file up to the teacher. he just leaves the room into the sea of hallway boys and girls and teachers and despair. lunch is next period, the same as every school he’s been to. his lunch is always after math class. jongdae moved to this school at the start of his junior year. it was now two weeks into his final year; hopefully he could stay long enough to graduate.

           he moved from his previous one after staying there a year. the one before that he had stayed at a year, and two months. his father was a businessman focusing in sales, it was only natural for him to move to the better paying position every chance he received. at least, that’s what his stepmother says when she throws her own clothes into a threadbare suitcase a week before leaving.

           jongdae’s own isn’t even unpacked completely and it’s been months.

           as it is most days, the cafeteria is a cacophony of madness. a true display of what is to come of teenagers left without supervision other than that of mrs. mari’s glass eye. jongdae glares at the line wrapping around the entrance to the lunch ladies and clicks his tongue. his stomach growls and who is he to ignore it? the freshmen and sophomores take one look at the senior budging to the front of the line before adverting their eyes. last time one of them tried to stop a senior, the scrawniest kid ended up in a trashcan. face down. they wouldn’t risk it again.

           jongdae sings under his breath once the tray of pork tenderloin sandwich and steamed corn is in his hands within seconds. it isn’t his favorite meal today, that is reserved by the spicy chicken strips they occasionally put out with extra hot sauce, but he has learned not to be too picky. he grabs a bag of chips and a granola bar from the ale cart tray before tossing them onto the bench in front of the keypad to pay.

           “thanks,” he offers to the man working the payment area.

           there’s no response back. jongdae still smiles as politely as he can manage as he types in his school idea. the first time he messes up. oh right, it’s 418902, not 257910. that was his last school idea number. the man groans and waves him past once its typed in correctly. someone that grumpy shouldn’t being doing customer service. and definitely not with teenagers either. his eyes scan the lunch room until they find chanyeol’s lanky form in one of those tight booths against the wall.

           “hey man! didn’t get to see you all week, everything better now?” jongin asks. his mouth is half stuffed with a piece of pizza dripping with ranch. jongdae waves a hand.

           “just a funeral. for some aunt of an uncle of a cousin. we had to fly out to vancouver of all places for it. canada is boring.”

           “sounds pretty rough, buddy. getting to miss school and fly cross-country. what I wouldn’t give,” chanyeol jokes. jongdae chokes out a laugh around his sandwich. he reaches up and flicks chanyeol’s face to try and wipe the smirk off his face.

           “what’d you miss? that gov test I know for sure,” jongin adds. it falls on ears deaf to his quiet voice.

           “you should’ve seen it. aunt sayeon was bawling so hard her fake eyelashes came unglued. fell right onto the dead guy’s casket!”

           a ripple of cackles passes through the three boys. chanyeol hits the table with his hand as his face scrunches up. jongdae thinks he’s doing it for show- he’s already awkward looking enough he plays it up. the curly hair, the ears that stick out a mile contradict the deep voice and tall frame. he’s six foot something, but doesn’t have any of the girls swooning over his ‘tall guy’ status. jongin was close to the same. at least he didn’t have yoda ears, but his laugh was like nails on a chalkboard when he was riled up. it was hilarious when he did it in front of his crush and ended up turning so red it looked like he might have passed out. chanyeol gratiously told him of the short boy, kyungsoo, that jongin is enamoured with. he stands at six foot something too.

           they all ended up tall. his friend yifan at the last school was tall too. jongdae thinks tall people are drawn to each other. and to him.

           some boy saunters up to their table, sits across from jongdae. he cuddles in close to chanyeol. no one here cares that much about boys with boys or girls with girls. jongdae thinks they’re lucky.

           “oh! hey, jongdae. I heard about what happened, i’m sorry. funerals suck,” he says.

           “it wasn’t bad. i didn’t know them very well.”

           his hand taps on the top of jongdae’s. the fingers touching him are perfectly smooth and the nails kept at a respectful length, it’s probably in some form of sympathy between acquaintances. he flinches back. the boy doesn’t take notice. his attention is turned back to chanyeol. jongdae feels a little bad, he can’t seem to remember his name. it started with a b. that much he could remember. jongin told him once that they’d been dating for four years; it was the talk of the little school. all their relationship drama went down before jongdae came.

           jongin doesn’t say much. he never does. that’s something jongdae was grateful for, even when chanyeol made up for their quietness with his own on most days. jongin is on his phone texting his mom or girlfriend or boyfriend or uncle or brother. maybe it’s kyungsoo. jongdae doesn’t know a whole lot about his story. he suddenly remembers he bought the extra snacks sitting on the table. he stuffs them into his bag underneath the table.

           he follows after jongin and gets out his own phone.

 

 

 

> _from: jongdae sent > september 7 -12:49 PM i_
> 
> _didn’t take it, too much stress with what happened. maybe next week! i need to study…_
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

 

> _from: jongdae sent > september 7 -12:50 PM _
> 
> _and who says I’m gonna go to college? the drug dealing prostitute pimp who owns his own strip club life is where it’s at! vocal majors don’t even need to study you loser ;P_
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

 

 

 

> _from: minseok sent > september 7 - 3:20 PM _
> 
> _tips for college number #329. don’t take any class with a professor who wears a bowtie. especially an algebra one. and that sucks with the test, but study hard! you’ve got to get that scholarship so you can come to my university and party hard_
> 
> _its lit._
> 
> _read > september 7 -3:20 PM_

 

           the bell rings at exactly 3:30. jongdae is already gone from the high school gates and walking over to where the elementary kids are racing out, eager to find their bus. the principal has a slip from his ‘dad’ (jongdae doesn’t tell her he forged it himself) to leave early at 3:25 each day and at 1:25 on fridays. the elementary lets out at 1:30 on those fridays. he waits at the edge of the gates with the other parents who don’t trust the bus system. one mom catches his eye and turns her body from him. rude.

           the fifth and fourth graders come pouring out first. jongdae checks his phone, shoots minseok a text. i believe you, I’ll go with professor generic and boring thank you very much. the third graders are next. one kid trips and skins his knee. crocodile tears spring to his eyes and two assistant teachers rush to help him up. jongdae clicks his tongue. he looks back down to his phone to scroll through instagram.

           “jongdae! jongdae!”

           a little boy, no more than five or six runs up to jongdae. he holds his hands up expectantly. the backpack on his shoulders is twice his little size. jongdae picks him up underneath his armpits.

           “sehun! sehun!”

           jongdae balances him on his hip. he chatters in his ear. “miss jaesoo brought us apples snacks and then car-a-mel syrup to put on the tops.” “mm… i thought you hated caramel?”

           “not any more. cause lulu likes it, so i like it too. but i still like gummies better!” sehun said. jongdae places a kiss on his forehead. he pulls a hand up and swipes the short hair away from his pale face. he cut it himself last week. a glob of caramel is right above his ear. looks like he’s going to have to cut it again tonight if it doesn’t wash out easily in the bath.

           they walk away on the sidewalk; the right side to let people pass. sehun likes to be held, but not hugged. he likes to be cuddled, but not coddled. jongdae has learned this; so he keeps his arm on his little brother just tight enough so he doesn’t fall.

           “can we get gummies today?”

           “not tonight, sehun. i’ve got homework and i bet you do too,” jongdae replies. sehun whips his head back and forth at a crazy speed. jongdae thinks he might just break his neck. “stop that.”

           he stops that. “i don’t have any.”

           “then what’s this?”

           jongdae maneuvers his free hand to open his bag and tug out a set of papers. they have boxes only half filled with color names and shapes. sehun pouts. he pushes his face into the juncture between jongdae’s collarbone and neck. the little boy’s words are muffled by jongdae’s shirt. he guesses he says that the papers are homework.

           sehun is grumpy. he huffs when they pass by the block that they turn at when going to the candy store. they found it by accident one of the first days jongdae walked them to school and it just so happened to have the same gummies that minseok bought for sehun. but today, jongdae doesn’t stop. he continues until they reach their neighborhood.

           it’s in a well to do development. his dad liked to live in places like this. fancy enough to brag about, not fancy enough to draw attention. the houses are all two stories, some are three. they pass by two cars in every driveway, a dog in every backyard, a picket fence surrounding every yard, and the occasional ash tree surrounded by a stone garden. those are only in every other yard.

           when jongdae was high once with weed jongin gave to him, it took him three tries to find his own house.

           a ‘for-sale’ sign hangs in the yard to the left of theirs. jongdae pauses. his mind initially thought it was on their property. but not yet. he hopes there will only be that one house for-sale on their cul-de-sac. he wants a house to live in, not live at. based on his father’s latest talkings, jongdae will say goodbye to chanyeol and jongin soon enough. a shame, he really likes these two.

           sehun wiggles out of his arms at the front door. jongdae digs for the keys in his pocket. he checks once, twice for the second car in their driveway. it’s not there. he lets sehun in first. his half empty backpack bounces with every step. sehun runs to his mother, “she’s sleeping, be gentle,” jongdae chastises. he kisses her hand. a giggle escapes his lips and e bounds out of the living room. little footsteps pound up the stairs.

           jongdae approaches his stepmother. he takes the jack daniels and jim beam and grey goose bottles from the floor. no stains are on the floor this time; she drank enough that the liquid didn’t spill out of their glass lips. the jack daniels and jim beam and grey goose are placed in the recycling with old fireball and pinot and guinness bottles. the glass clinks merrily. when he comes back to his stepmother, some janet or jane or josephine, jongdae flicks through her purse. one hundred in twenties and a few singles. his dad has been spoiling her lately. jongdae pockets the cash. he checks the time on his phone. 4:10, monday, september 7. two weeks before his eighteenth birthday.

           he wonders if his father will remember. probably not.

           chanyeol and jongin might have remembered if he told them the date.

           in the kitchen- the immaculate, perfect, spotless, never dirty or with a smudge kitchen- jongdae opens the first cabinet. then the second, and the third, and the fifth. they are all empty. the fourth is his father’s and his father’s alone. the padlock sits heavy against the handle to remind him of that fact. jongdae does a check of the fridge as well. underneath a loaf of bread (why that is in the fridge, jongdae doesn’t even question) is some beer in the bottom pullout drawers and champagne in the side. he pulls out two cans and sends a prayer up that his father won’t notice them missing.

           sehun can be heard from upstairs in his room. jongdae looks to the stairs. he lets the fridge door fall shut. his fingers pop open the tab on the beer. it’s a bud light, and while jongdae preferred the craft ones that that one friend, zitao, would bring back from china, he swallows it down in one go. the can is buried beneath the bottles in the recycling.

           “jongdae! i need help,” sehun calls to him. his gaze flickers to the woman on the chair. she’s still passed out. the second can of bud light is stuffed down into his pocket.

           jongdae takes the stairs two at a time. sehun’s door is open to the sight of him stuck in his pullover dinosaur sweatshirt. the morning had been chilly, but the temperature has risen all day. just looking at it made jongdae feel hot. he grabs the sleeves that were the issue and tug them over his head. his brother’s head finally pops free of the offending article with his hair a crazy mess. now in his t-shirt (this is nacho cheese written over the image of a taco, sehun’s favorite to wear to school), he jumps up on his bed.

           in all, there are three barbie dolls, one car model big enough to fit all three, and two stuffed dinosaurs on the bed. jongdae leaves to get his backpack. it is splayed out by the entryway, discarded after a long day of socializing to people he didn’t truly care about. he thinks for a moment after grabbing it and plucks his shoes sitting by the door as well. they are stuffed into the bag. sehun took his off in his room most likely. his mind still has no concept for manners. he stops by the fridge a second time, pulls out two slices of bread, and puts the loaf back. the phone in jongdae’s pocket buzzes with a notification on his way back to sehun.

           by the time he comes back, the dinosaurs have doubled in number while one barbie is missing. sehun notices him trying to find the last barbie, a curly brunette with a chewed-up hand. he giggles. “look in blueberry’s tummy!” sehun crawls across the bed. “mimi didn’t run away fast enough!”

           “oh, she didn’t, did she?” jongdae says. lo and behold, there is a barbie in the blue dinosaur’s mouth. its ankle was caught around the dinosaur’s fabric teeth. “what are they doing now?”

           “well sani and baeli are stuck in the car. grape and strawberry,” he grabs a triceratops with purple stripes and a red pterodactyl, “are trying to get them out. and kiwi is explaining that blueberry was hungry. she didn’t get to eat leaves yesterday cause the deer came by and stole them all!”

           jongdae tries his best to follow. he does. but it’s damn near impossible to catch on to what the kid is rambling about. he pulls out his phone. the time is nearing 5:00. jongdae gets up and closes the door to his own room across the hallway. he shuts sehun’s behind himself. it doesn’t have a lock, even when he wishes it does. jongdae sits back on the bed and his legs dangle over the edge. sehun’s don’t.

           he texts minseok.

           minseok jokes about paying off student loans with selling drugs. jongdae responds that he should hook him up if he gets the chance. minseok just got a new cat, a chubby orange tabby he ironically named garfield. jongdae asks if the cat likes lasagna. the cat has not been fed lasagna yet. minseok promises that he will tonight. the garage door opens. the sound shakes the house. sehun doesn’t pay it any attention, and continues playing with his dinosaurs. jongdae flicks his phone off. he turns it on to check the time. shuts it back off.

           “c’mon sehun, homework time.” sehun sighs with as much drama as he can muster up. his hand doesn’t let go of kiwi. jongdae takes it out of his hand and places it in his lap. “less whining, more working.”

           sehun rolls off the bed and onto the floor. he lays there for a solid minute. jongdae counts. before crawling on his hands and knees to retrieve his bag, sehun lets out a second sigh. a group of care bears stare dead eyed from the outside of the backpack. sehun thought they were adorable in the store. jongdae might have been a little more than disturbed at that picture of sunshine bear with his soulless smile. jongdae pulls his own government homework out of his beat-up folder. he wishes he could be learning that mixing red and blue makes purple, not the process of impeaching a president when he wins the public vote.

           while digging for a black pen, jongdae remembers the snack food. “here. eat,” jongdae says as he tosses the bag of chips and granola bar onto the bed. sehun clamors over to grab them. his worksheet is clutched in his right hand and the granola bar in the other. he plops himself down in the middle of jongdae’s lap and holds the granola bar out for him to open. he does. jongdae takes the slices of bread out of his pants pocket and keeps them for himself. as sehun nibbles and attempts to color in the correct shapes with crayons, jongdae studies his own work. sehun is using his left arm as a table to color. he lets him.

           jongdae’s foot pushes a rogue barbie on the end of the bed off so his foot won’t keep bumping into it. the second can of beer is pulled out and opened. he takes a swig, putting the rest on the nightstand. sehun moves on to the bag of chips. the crumbs falling don’t bother him. jongdae knows he’ll end up crawling into his own bed across the hall to sleep.

           the chips are half gone when sehun reaches for his beer. jongdae pulls the bud light off the nightstand and over his head before the boy’s fingers touch it. “gimme!”

           “no, you can’t have any.”

           “but i’m thirsty!” he tries to reach for it. jongdae holds it higher.

           “it’s a big kid drink. only big kids can drink it.” jongdae brings it down and takes a sip as if to taunt him. he doesn’t mean to. he was thirsty too.

           “that’s what dad always says too. you guys aren’t fair.”

           jongdae rolls his eyes. kids never understand the ‘why’ to actions. “fine then. try it. just don’t throw up.” he hands him the can. sehun takes it in his small hands and brings it up to his lips. a sip goes past his lips before he’s shoving it back at jongdae. the beer makes sehun’s face screw up. his tongue smacks against the roof of his mouth. ‘bleh’ leaves his lips.

           they fall back into silence. the crunching of sehun’s chips isn’t enough to cover up the sound of their father downstairs. jongdae puts the empty beer can underneath his bed as he listens. it can’t be seen then. their father’s talking to someone. another voice responds; it’s another man. a work friend. jongdae nudges sehun on to finish his homework. he’ll have plenty of time once he’s asleep to finish his own.

           “bath time?” jongdae asks once he notices that the shapes have all been colored and the numbers added on the second sheet. sehun nods. the papers are stuffed back into the care bear backpack with less care than they were taken out. jongdae notices a blue envelope sticking out that he hadn’t seen at first. before he can zip it up, he takes it out. opens the seal. unfolds the paper. looks at the cursive handwriting.

_to the parents or guardians of: oh sehun_

_we would like to schedule a meeting regarding recent behaviors that sehun…_

           jongdae tucks the paper back into the blue envelope. that can be dealt with later. he cracks the door open a sliver. after listening for a few seconds, he hears his father’s voice. the first telltale signs of slurring can be heard. sehun grabs onto his hand and forces the door open. jongdae lets him. he leads them into the little bathroom. jongdae locks the door behind them. and then shoves the doorstop under it for good measure. sehun is already undressing the best he can by himself and turning on the hot water.

           sehun knows the routine.

           the bath only takes half an hour. he plays with the rubber toys in the purple water, colored from a bath bomb jongdae had bought. sehun splashes quietly as            jongdae scrubs the stubborn chunk of caramel stuck in his hair. it comes out. sehun giggles with his rubber ducky at jongdae slipping into the water and getting his shirt wet. the older is not as amused.

           jongdae helps his brother out of the tub once his hair is washed and rinsed of the soap. the towel he picks is fluffy, but worn. sehun mentions its itchiness. jongdae tells him to not complain. a pair of underwear and one of jongdae’s old middle school track t-shirts are his pajamas for the night.

           once sehun is all dried and bundled up in his faux pajamas, he waits for jongdae to unlock the door. jongdae lets him get around his legs. he sees sehun race to his bedroom door. his brother slips inside. jongdae dries his hands one last time on his shorts. sehun is already a lump under his blankets when he gets into his room. he picked up his bag from his room on the way over from the bathroom. it goes down onto his floor unceremoniously.

           “ready for bed?”

           “yup..” he yawns. it’s contagious. jongdae yawns.

           “no bedtime story tonight, alright? i’ve got another test I need to study for.”

           sehun grunts. he isn’t happy but is too tired to fight. jongdae pulls the blankets all the way up to his scuffed chin.

           “what happened here?” jongdae runs a finger over the scrape. sehun pushes his hand away with a whine.

           “i was racin’ lulu and tripped. but don’t worry. lulu said kisses make it better and kissed it lots so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

           jongdae clicks his tongue. he finishes tucking the blanket snugly around sehun. he leaves enough for himself when he will lay down hours later. his eyes are slipping closed, his attempts obvious as he stays awake for jongdae.

           “love you,” jongdae says. a kiss on his forehead.

           “…love….too” sehun mumurs. “say the thing.”

           jongdae says the thing. “lay down your head, it’s time for bed. stay quiet, stay out of sight. sleep tight. don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 7 - 9:47 PM _
> 
> _< 3264x2448> yes. garfield loves lasagna until the cheese makes him puke. gross _
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 7 - 9:47 PM _
> 
> _oh ya, im like a month late but he came out with a new album. have you listened? moments silence if you know what I mean ;P https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/nina-cried-power-ep/1434463608_
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 7 -11:01 PM _
> 
> _did you fall asleep already? my god youre worse than my grandma! tell sehun goodnight_
> 
> _delivered._

 

           jongdae hears the front door slam shut after laying sehun down for bed. then comes the sound of his name being called. his father isn’t a patient man. he lays his pencil on top of his essay and puts his eraser into his pencil case. zips it up. he flicks the desk lamp off. the room is dark except for the bright streetlights filtering in through gaps in the curtains. the stars are pitch black against the full moon.

           his name is called again. it’s followed by the sound of shattering glass. heavy enough to be a higher quality liquor, jongdae recognizes. sehun stirs. jongdae runs a hand through his drying hair.

           “don’t wake up sehun, be a good boy.” sehun whines in his sleep and turns to his side. “keep dreaming.”

           jongdae makes his way out of the room as quietly as he can manage. the door shuts behind him with a barely audible click. his eyes fall to the foot of the stairs where his father is waiting. there’s red in his cheeks and glass in his eyes. anger is written all over.

           “kim jongdae. get your ass down here. now.”

           he holds his tongue and does as his father requests. jongdae doesn’t speak when he is taken by the arm and dragged to the kitchen. his father steps right over the pile of broken glass but doesn’t give jongdae the chance to. his bare feet bleed. the pool of spilled alcohol burns on the cuts of his feet. the hand tightening round his forearm (there won’t be bruises, it isn’t a hard enough grip, jongdae knows) releases him. pulls him forward to face the refrigerator. a thumb digs into the fading bruises of last week on his shoulder.

           “what is this, jongdae?”

           the breath is hot against jongdae’s neck. it reeks of whiskey. the other hand’s fingers tap against the open fridge door. jongdae holds his breath. he counts to ten. “it’s the fridge.”

           the second hand reaches up to jongdae’s hair. a sharp tug pulls him back; jongdae loses his balance as the whiplash sets in a moment later. his father sweeps his leg to help him to the floor.

           “you fuckin’ smartass. i didn’t raise my son to be so disrespectful.” jongdae tries to get up from the floor. within seconds, a hand is around his neck. it picks him up, shoves him back into the counter. the sharp edge digs into his lower back. jongdae can’t breathe. black is creeping in around the edges of his vision. his father can tell. “so tell me you little bitch, why i’ve got beer missing, huh? taesoo came over tonight ‘nd wanted a drink. open the fridge, and my stock’s low. wonder why that happened?”

           his hand loosens. jongdae takes a lungful of air in. he hunches over at the pain.

           “c’mon now boy. you really that much of a bitch that you can’t take a couple broken ribs? that ain’t bad. i didn’t snap your neck or anythin’.” jongdae wishes he did.

           two fractured ribs and a cracked sternum. severe bruising around the eye socket. torn ligament in his left pinky. he said ‘family issues’ when the gym teacher and his exercise buddy asked why he wasn’t participating, when the principal asked for the reason to his long absence. ‘it’s been stressful’ he added to chanyeol. they all bought it. jongin didn’t. but he didn’t say anything to jongdae.

           his father stumbles back when jongdae tries to get a shove in. he gets a backhand to the mouth in return. the blood wells up in his mouth. it tastes of fear. fear tastes like copper and iron. jongdae remains motionless from where he stands. his father towers above him. “don’t ever steal from me again.” “what… like you steal from your employees?”

           jongdae curses his sharp tongue. he should bite it rather than let it loose. but he only ever remembers when the hand of god rains down on his body. his arms come up to cover his head. he forgets to cover his stomach. once his father hand is no longer keeping him in place, jongdae slumps.

           “stand your ass up.” jongdae tries his best to straighten out his body. a punch is delivered to his gut. when his father turns his back, jongdae drops the straight-backed pose. “now get out of my sight.”

           the woman in the living room isn’t there anymore. if jongdae were to guess, he’d say that she went out the moment he came down the stairs. his stepmother ran away a lot.

           jongdae trudges up the stairs to his room. his hands shake. it takes three tries to open the doorknob. the place where his back pressed into the counter’s edge is sure to bruise. there’s no gym class tomorrow, no one will notice. this time could have been another last week, but it wasn’t. maybe his father was in a better mood today.

           sehun is still sound asleep in his bed. he doesn’t check to make sure the boy’s still sleeping soundly. before lying down, jongdae changes out of his shirt. the calloused fingers running across the bruised flesh don’t feel like his own. his lip is oozing blood.

           the light from his phone is a welcome distraction as he curls up next to sehun.

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 8 -12:10 AM ill tell him. just up doing a shit ton of homework :/ i want a break _
> 
> _read > september 8 -12:11 AM._

 

 

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 12 -8:28 AM _
> 
> _good morning… aww sorry to hear you’re in the hospital! being sick with the flu sucks…_
> 
> _read > september 12 -8:29 AM._

 

 

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 13 -8:28 AM _
> 
> _sorry for the late response. my head feels like its gonna explode if I look at a phone screen too long_
> 
> _read > september 13 -8:29 AM._

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 13 -8:29 AM _
> 
> _you want me to come visit? i don’t have classes today, im free this weekend_
> 
> _read > september 13 -8:30 AM._

 

 

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 13 -8:33 AM_
> 
> _nah i’m fine. don’t waste the twenty hours of gas or flight money, it’ll probably go away soon_
> 
> _read > september 13 -8:34 AM_

 

 

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 16 -10:05 AM _
> 
> _i want to die_
> 
> _read > september 16 -10:05 AM_

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 16 -10:05 AM _
> 
> _just finished the makeup calc exam? or still getting over the stomach thing?_
> 
> _read > september 17 -10:06 AM._

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 17 -10:06 AM _
> 
> _both_
> 
> _read > september 18 -1:06 AM_

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 17 -10:06 AM _
> 
> _not that youd know what it feels like to take an actual smart people test like calculus_
> 
> _read > september 18 -1:06 AM_

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 18 -1:06 AM _
> 
> _brat._
> 
> _read > september 18 -6:59 AM_

 

 

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 21 -12:00 AM _
> 
> _woooo happy 18 birthday!!!!! go buy all the cigarettes and scratch tickets and gamble your little not minor heart out!!!!_
> 
> _read > september 21 - 7:12 AM._

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 21 -7:13 AM _
> 
> _youre a horrible influence. and you have to be 21 to buy scratch tickets i checked :(_
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

 

 

> _from: minseok_
> 
> _sent > september 24 -8:06 AM _
> 
> _good morning! tell sehun to feel better! i feel sad when that little shit is sick_
> 
> _read > april 15-10:07 AM_

 

           “he caught the flu from you, it’s not like it’ll get worse in eight hours,” chanyeol says to jongdae. jongdae doesn’t listen and keeps worrying about his brother. they walk into the classroom and head towards the back. chanyeol is the first to toss his notebooks down on to the desk. jongdae sits next to him as they wait for the other two at their table group to come in. the class today has been hyped up in everyone’s minds for the past two months. they would finally get to start dissecting cats to learn the muscles of the body.

           all jongdae can think about is garfield.

           “he’s in kindergarten. they get sick so fast it could all turn around,” jongdae responds. chanyeol gives him a shake of the head.

           “just get your mom or dad to watch him. it’s not like you’re his father.”

           “yeah, but they’re both at work.” jongdae hopes that’s true.

           the teacher clears her throat. the students listen in to her half-assed demonstration on how to place the first cut on the abdomen of the cats. already the room is filled with the stench of formaldehyde and preserved flesh. both of the students across from chanyeol and jongdae wrinkle their noses. the girl gags dramatically until someone pats her on the back. jongdae gags and chanyeol whacks him on the shoulder.

           “don’t be a pussy. it’s a dead cat.”

           chanyeol jumps up as soon as the teacher lets them go pick out which one they wanted to disect. all of the cats are stuffed into plastic bags and filled with fluid. their ears and mouths are stuffed with hard foam, lips curled back into frozen sneers. jongdae walks to the workbench, letting chanyeol pick out the cat he wanted. everyone lets the tallest boy to the front of the line without many complaints.

           the bag of cat is tossed onto the tabletop. it doesn’t land on all fours. it squishes with a thud.

           “i got the biggest one they had!” chanyeol laughs. “it’ll be so much easier to cut into!”

           “yeah, i’m sure,” jongdae says. he wants to throw up. and maybe then chanyeol would escort him to the nurse and he could go home.

           they pull on plastic gloves up to their elbows. chanyeol takes his off and ties his bangs back with one of the girls’ ponytail holders. they giggle. he puts the gloves back on. jongdae hands him a scalpel. he reads aloud from the guide they were given on where to make the first cuts on the abdomen. chanyeol follows with a hum after each instruction.

           all of the students in the room are lax. it’s as if they don’t realize that these cats were living once, they had lives to lead. jongdae wrinkles his forehead as he loses his place on the instruction sheet. he treis to take a deep breath to clear his head. the formaldehyde doesn’t help.

           chanyeol nudges his shoulder with his elbow. his hands are covered in liquidy pieces of cat. jongdae reads the next direction that he left off on. he hopes that their cat didn’t have orange fur or liked lasagna. chances are it did.

           when chanyeol opens up the chest cavity, he gets ready to break the ribs. it says to do so in the manual.

           “god i fucking hate cats,” chanyeol says. jongdae can’t detect an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. chanyeol angles his hands just right and pushes down. the ribs snap. they sound like cracking glowsticks at a fourth of july picnic in the summer. jongdae grips the edge of the table. the sound echoes throughout the room as other groups follow.

           at the noise of six cats having their ribs broken all at once, jongdae collapses.

           the nurse shoots him a sympathetic gaze when he comes to. she gives a pat on his leg and goes back to playing solitaire. the lights are dimmed in her office and he’s on the bed closest to her desk. the girl who gagged earlier is sitting with her eyes closed. her head is against the wall. while she breathes, jongdae counts the time in between each breath. after what feels like an eternity, he shifts his neck to face the waiting chairs. it feels as though he is a crane operator and his head is the heaviest load ever, swinging around without control.

           “you feeling better? you almost cracked your head pretty good,” chanyeol whispers. he tries not to disturb the other patient. jongdae musters up a shaky smile.

           “i think...”

           “thank god you’re lighter than you look.” the joke was meant to be quiet, but the laugh chanyeol gives is anything but. the silence that follows is awkward. jongdae is trying to get his head to stop spinning. once he’s sure that everything he ate for lunch won’t spew out, jongdae attempts to sit up. chanyeol puts one hand behind his back to help. it doesn’t really. “class is almost over. mr. lee said you could go home. i’ll drive if you want.”

           the walk home was over two miles. no way would jongdae make it on his own. between the cat and this aching sickness that had been lingering the past few weeks, he’d probably pass out in the middle of the road before he made it to the first two-car, one dog house. “don’t you have class? it’s not even fourth period…”

           “i’ve skipped for worse reasons. the secretaries will probably applaud me doing something nice for once.”

           “can we go now?”

           chanyeol nods. “do you need your bag or anything?”

           “no.”

           when jongdae’s feet hit the ground, he sways. chanyeol locks one arm around his waist and hoists jongdae’s own around his shoulders. it’s overkill, and honestly is putting strain on the bruises dotting jongdae’s shoulders. but jongdae appreciates the gesture. that still doesn’t stop the flinch.

           they walk out of the nurse’s office and through the main entrance. one look at jongdae and the woman behind the desk waves them on. chanyeol parked close to the building. jongdae is thankful. he’s deposited into the passenger seat before chanyeol crawls into the driver’s spot. he pulls out his phone and hands it to jongdae. the gps app is pulled up and jongdae types in his neighbor’s address. this will be chanyeol’s first time to his neighborhood. jongin’s been a few times, but never really came back. jongdae doesn’t blame him.

           the drive is short. chanyeol circles around the cul-de-sac to pull up to the curb on the correct side. jongdae waves him on once he’s out of the car. he doesn’t need chanyeol hanging around for any reason. his friend mouths ‘text me’ before driving off. he won’t. the car turns right and revs its engine. jongdae walks from the neighbor’s house with the blue siding.

           that’s when he notices his father’s car in the driveway.

           his heart speeds up until he’s nauseous. his father is supposed to be at work from seven until six thirty. it’s like clockwork. and like a clock, jongdae thought he could always trust it. but sehun was home. he was supposed to be alone; a miserable thing for a sick kid, but better than any alternative. the school threatened summer school if jongdae had any more unexcused absences.

           jongdae tries the front door and finds it unlocked. his fingers pat the phone in his pocket to check that it’s still there. it is. he steps into the living room and finds it empty. not even jill or jane or jessica is there. his father is digging through his work bag on the kitchen table. jongdae sneaks up to sehun’s room without him noticing.

           his brother isn’t anywhere in his own room. he even checks under the bed, in the toy box, in the laundry hamper. across the hall is his room. the door is closed just as he left it, but he looks anyways. sehun is curled up under his blankets and sniffling miserably. his hair is sticking to his forehead in masses dripping with sweat. jongdae wipes his sticky sweat away with the corner of the blanket. his eyes don’t even open. the smell makes him feel sick all over again. he shouldn’t have left sehun alone today. it was a bad idea from the start.

           “jongdae?”

           how jongdae wishes that was sehun asking for him. but the voice was two octaves too deep. jongdae bites the inside of his lip. no doubt his father heard him coming in and feigned ignorance. he exits out of the room. his foot trips on the first stair but he catches himself. his hands grasp the railing.

           “yeah?”

           “why aren’t you at school? i’ve received enough calls from your principal about truancy or whatever the fuck you’ve been doing,” his father scoffs.

           “i got sick. they let me go early,” he supplies. the truth isn’t enough. jongdae’s father barks a ‘get down here’ as he tosses his bag aside.

           “bullshit. you’ve been stealing, and now lying to your father?” a slap to the face. “disgraceful. both you and that little shit.”

           “what… what do you mean?” jongdae asks. his hand cradles his cheek.

           “your brother. played hooky all day. lied in bed and even asked for candies. like i’d waste a penny on that thing.” jongdae’s father didn’t realize he’s been paying for everything of his. it’s just made a pitstop in jongdae’s pick pocketing hand. “i found what he was talkin’ about, don’t worry.” a hand worms its way up to jongdae’s hair. it pulls. “made him eat all of them.”

           his heart sinks. minseok introduced him to those candies. they were hiss favorites. jongin had bought this batch for him. reds are sweet and greens are sour and yellows somewhere in between. jongdae tries to jerk back, but his head is locked in place. his father shoves his face into the kitchen table when he tries to speak. the impact leaves a trail of blood running from his nose.

           “threw up most of them. i don’t know why he didn’t keep them down like a good child.”

           jongdae lashes a hand out. it catches his father right in the stomach and jongdae slips free from his hold. his face contorts into one of rage. and disgust. “fuck you! why’d you do that? hate me all you want, but why him?!”

           his father snaps at the raised tone in his son’s voice. “you think you can talk back to me? you and him are the same! whore mothers, whore wives, whore children!” a fist connects with jongdae’s cheekbone. it stings. “all you are the same. got a call from jeni this morning. that cunt took off this morning with all the cash stashed in her suitcase. even stole the good liquor.”

           ah. so that’s why his father was home so early.

           “lucky bitch. she should’ve told me. i’d’ve taken her to the bus stop,” jongdae spits out.

           “fucking asshole.” the words are grit out between clenched teeth. jongdae takes a step backwards. his body hits the corner of the sink and the counter. his father is between him and the entrance. there’s nowhere he can run to.

           air rushes out of jongdae’s lungs at the kick delivered to his stomach. a second kick, faster than the last comes. it strikes him right between the ribs. another to the knee drops him to the ground. he knows there are tears on his face. but his mouth stays shut this once. if he’s lucky, there will only be bruising tomorrow morning. maybe he will be able to get out of bed. most likely not.

           “dae? what happened?”

           jongdae peeks out from under his arms to come face to face with sehun. he’s pale. but he’s still standing with blueberry in his hand and hair a tangled mess. the noise probably woke the poor thing up. sehun takes a step forward and their father is on him instantly.

           “shut it. the grownups are talking.”

           “jongdae!”

           sehun’s arm is encased by a large hand tugging him out of the room. he tries his best to pull free, or stay, or do something. the only result he gets is his socked feet slipping against the hardwood floor. their father doesn’t release his grip as he tumbles down. the sound of the cat’s cracking ribs, of glowsticks, of bone breaking, fills jongdae’s ears. the pounding of blood can’t be heard over the sound of sehun’s wails. his arm is released. the beginnings of black and blue flood the skin.

           “how the fuck could you do that? to your own son?”

           their father snorts. it’s an ugly sound- the sound of a pig. “don’t get your panties in a twist, boy. he’s fine.”

           jongdae wills his body to go up to a standing position. without his father keeping him down, it’s an easy feat. the aches of his body are familiar. no words are said.

           “go to your room sehun,” jongdae says. “please.” -“shut up!”

           sehun doesn’t listen to either of them. he stays crying fat tears. snot runs down his nose and onto his lips. blueberry drops to the floor in a heap of fluffy dinosaur flesh. the aggravation builds. it’s not difficult to see the way it morphs his father’s expression. jongdae’s fingers feel behind his body. one of the drawers is pulled open. he doesn’t dare to turn his back on his father. sehun is still in his sight. his fingers fumble around until they close around a knife. the blade slices open his pointer finger that grabbed that instead of the handle. jongdae can’t bring himself to care.

           “i said shut up,” their father roars.

           his back turns. he lunges for sehun. jongdae lunges for him. the knife digs in in the juncture between the shoulder and collarbone. a scream rips from deep in his belly. the body crumples to the floor. jongdae grabs sehun and runs with him upstairs. sehun is clutched in his shaking arms. they go into his room; jongdae forgets to shut the door.

           he is panicking. he is panicking a lot.

           “grab what you want sehun,” he commands. he continues to cry. but his good hand reaches out and pulls another dinosaur stuffie close to his chest. it’s kiwi this time. jongdae tears into his closet until he sees the hidden plastic bag. it’s a simple ziploc, white papers stuffed around the outside of the bag. he opens it to check that the money is still in it. all two thousand, four hundred, and twenty-seven dollars of it.

           by the time they get downstairs, their father is slumped against the table. blood is smeared from the hardwood up to the table. the knife is stained red, drying on the table. jongdae feels glad he took it out. anyone trained in basic first aid knows that pulling out a knife means a greater chance of severe blood loss. sehun’s head turns their father’s way and jongdae yanks it back the other way. it was harsher than he intended. more wails course through sehun.

           they leave the house.

           jongdae’s finger throbs. out of everything his mind wants to focus on it’s not his shoeless feet or sehun’s exhausted body weighing him down or the fact that the only possessions he had were his phone and wallet and two thousand, four hundred, twenty-seven in cash. it’s the cut in his finger. probably needing stitches, it bleeds. the lunch rush hasn’t hit yet. it was still before noon. jongdae walks the empty bustling streets to the nearest bus stop. they stop at a store on the strip mall to buy shoes. sehun is sniffling into his shirt but still picks out a pair with dinosaurs. no surprise there. jongdae pays and leaves before he gets the chance to talk to the police another customer called. sehun’s arm is now swollen twice its normal size.

           with the shoes on, the less stares they get. people are funny like that. jongdae wants to laugh.

           the couple waiting beside them at the bus stop don’t say anything.

           the balding bus driver doesn’t say anything.

           the lady working the ticket kiosk for the amtrak doesn’t say anything.

           the conductor on their sleeper car only asks for his id. jongdae gives it to him. he’s eighteen by three days. sehun can travel with him.

           jongdae hasn’t been so empty handed before. maybe he has been all this time, but it never felt like it. they had a house, they had money. all of that was out of their reach now. nothing was turning out like jongdae planned. that one night when minseok did visit, they had a whole idea on when to take sehun out of the house. they would leave when jongdae graduated and maybe move in with minseok. it was going to be perfect.

           sehun is kicking his legs up and down. he cradles his arm and the stuffie against his chest. maybe he’s disappointed. maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s sad. jongdae can’t tell. he runs a hand through sehun’s hair and feels the fever still holding on. he coaxes the little boy down onto the bed and under the blankets.

           honestly, jongdae’s just mad.

           jongdae tucks sehun into the shaking bed. he doesn’t say goodnight prayers to him or read a bedtime story. sehun doesn’t seem to mind too much. he just tugs jongdae into the little bed with him for warmth. he doesn’t. jongdae sits at the foot instead. his legs dangle over the edge. sehun’s don’t.

           now he’s all sehun’s got. and he is still jongdae’s.

           he waits for the train to take them away.

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 24 -11:57 AM _
> 
> _i need help were coming_
> 
> _delivered._

 

 

> _from: jongdae_
> 
> _sent > september 24 -11:57 AM _
> 
> _im sorry_
> 
> _delivered._

 


End file.
